loser4loserswhok1ll

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Who Cares What's Behind.

nathan explosion x pickles the drummer

smut, minors dni

loosely based on the song passenger by deftones

not proofread i aint doin allat

note: just finished this at literally 1:53 am if you see fuck ups, no you didnt.

the apartment was cramped, shitty and stuffy, and it smelled like piss and weed and alcohol practically all the time. there's not one specific culprit for that, all of them are at fault. you shove 5 to-be rockstars in one apartment and it's going to smell bad. beyond the smelling bad, god, there was absolutely no privacy. they shared rooms, sometimes bounced between rooms depending on who is being pissy with who that night. the previous week had been tense. everyone's picking fights, especially murderface and magnus. magnus can't get over not getting what he wants, and murderface is tired of feeling like he's being treated like a kid. its making the other guys tense too. nathan has been taking the brunt of it. when fights happen, he has to take on some metaphorical father role, and it is so draining. the nagging and the yelling and the pointing fingers is all getting to him. its in his shoulders, making him scrunch them up into himself. it makes him seem somehow bigger than he is. pickles has had to step in too, and that's when you know things have gotten too intense. once the pair got that tired of it, they silently agreed to do one of their favorite things.

it was a relatively loud night. skwisgaar was yelling about a broken guitar string that he swears murderface broke, but murderface said it was magnus, and magnus is saying skwisgaar is just lying to put the blame on anyone but himself. it was like listening to middle schoolers tussle over who skipped in the lunch line. it was mind numbing, but luckily the ruckus was distraction enough for pickles and nathan to slip out of the apartment unseen and alone. they walk silently to nathans car. that old beat up thing. once in, nathans hands grip the wheel enough to make a squeak noise from his sweaty palms against the leather. the engine roars, like a cat with asthma, and pickles is still in awe that this thing runs. its the equivalent of riding just the skeleton of a horse at this point. the wheels crunch gravel and rock as the car pulls out of the driveway and off onto actual road. pickles leans up and turns on the radio, sifting through the channels of way too much shitty pop and wife beater country.

nathan reaches one large and tense hand over and clicks the knob, shutting the radio off. "put on your seatbelt." he mutters. pickles smirks and sits back in his seat. "yer just gonna rip it off of me in a few minutes, big boy." pickles knew how that name made nathans jaw clench and his thighs tense. "just put the damn seatbelt on." nathan doesn't so much as glance at pickles, eyes trained on the road and mind elsewhere. pickles rolls his eyes but listens, his seatbelt clicking and letting nathan know it's on. the ride is silent, just the sound of breathing and unspoken need on both ends. pickles feels a sense of anxious excitement crawl in his skin once the tree line of the park they tend to visit comes into view. it's not big, this isnt the midwest. but its empty enough at night for it to feel huge. or maybe its the buzz in pickles brain that he gets coming here. he pavloved himself into getting horny seeing that treeline, and nathan probably feels it too. its a very quick routine. find the spot most hidden, park, and the engine hardly has time to slow to a top before nathans pulling the lever to lean his chair back and pickles climbs out of his seat. the seatbelt hits the wall with a dull thud and metal clink, and nathans chair is pulled as far back as possible.

theres not even a word exchanged as hot breaths become one air and tongue fights tongue. pickles tases faintly like cheap beer and he chuckles at the taste of mint in nathans mouth. he pulls back panting. "dude, did you brush your teeth before leaving?" he says it with a chuckle and crooked smirk like nathan should be embarrassed. "i knew i wasnt gonna wanna do it later." nathan grumbles, voice more hoarse than usual. the rumble of it shoots through pickles body. nathans voice has always felt like standing right next to an amp blasting bass. the way it vibrates through the floor and air and fills your throat and makes your heart constrict. a big hand grabs the nape of pickles neck and tugs him into another heated and way too sloppy kiss. theres spit everywhere, its animalistic. dogs in heat, and the way they rut against eachother does nothing to ease those claims. pickles tugs his jacket off like its burning his and tosses it onto the passenger seat. this is quickly met with nathan mimicking the action, his own jacket being thrown on top of the smaller one.

pickles shifts, his back arching around the steering wheel as to not hit the horn. he's something of a professional at this from how frequently he's in this position. as uncomfortable as it is, grinding through and against way too tight jeans is even worse. pickles hands reach down and pull at his belt until its loose, the button and zipper on his jeans undone not long after. nathan, breathing like a pissed bull under pickles, quickly works on his own jeans. theres a harmonized moan as freed erection touches freed erection. thats always nathans favorite part, the melody of it all. pickles voice compliments his so well, its hard not to think of sex with him as something close to sharing a microphone. its something like co-writing lyrics once nathans hand wraps around both twitching dicks. thats pickles favorite part, the sharing. their precum mixes into a collaborated lube and pickles places his hands on either side of nathans head, knuckles white as he fingers dig into the torn seat cushion. nathans practically silent, all of his focus put into watching pickles chew on his bottom lip and furrow his brows.

nathan can feel that vein on the underside of pickles dick twitch and he pulls his hand away. a whine rips through pickles and he picks his gaze up to glare at nathan, though its a very harmless glare. "i want to fuck you. c'mon, get up here." nathan doesnt even let pickles attempt to move before hes grabbing his thighs enough to leave reminders of his fingertips for tomorrow. he tugs him up, positioning pickles exactly where they both know he belongs, speared on nathans cock. "cool it, big guy. yer gonna tear me apart." pickles reaches over to the glove box and punches it open, impatiently digging for the bottle of lube they keep handy. once his fingers curl around the familiar shape, he grins that same crooked smile and holds the bottle up, shaking it tantalizingly from side to side. nathan swallows thick, and pickles eyes lock onto the way his adams apple bobs. thats all he needed. he flips the bottle and squeezes some of the really fucking cold lube onto his fingers. he pushes the bottle into nathans hand as his own reaches down behind him to begin prepping. the lube makes him shiver, its cold. it was in the car all night, to be fair. that doesnt stop him from pushing 2 fingers in and biting his lip. nathan watches intently while he covers his cock in the cold substance.

one thing about nathan is that his eyes trail across pickles body and to the points of interest, yes, but he loves to observe every little flutter of pickles eyelids or the way his nose scrunches. his face is nathans favorite, and nathan loves knowing what pickles is feeling just by his features. the noises too, god. pickles sounds like a groupie if nathan didnt have the visuals to pair. "nate, 'm ready. fuckin hurry." pickles pants out, and nathan wastes no time. he wipes the lube on his hand onto pickles shirt, earning him a small eyeroll and it makes him chuckle deep in his chest. that chuckle was enough to distract pickles from the fact that nathan had aligned himself already. just as soon as he looks down to realize that, nathan starts to press in. its a pressure, then a tightness, then a damn near painful fullness. it makes pickles mouth hang slack and a groan rip out of him like a mating call. nathan holds onto pickles thighs until hes fully seated, and they sit there for a moment like that. nathan lets his eyes flutter shut, letting the sensations be his sole focus. there was always a pause before the real animal fucking began, a small moment of connecting and unspoken intimacy. neither guy would admit it or bring it up, but they both crave it. so its become solidified as a necessary step. once the ache is faint enough, pickles lifts himself up on his knees, nathans dick nearly leaving him, before slamming down and making nathan bare his teeth with a groan. pickles leans back, elbows propped on the dash around the wheel, back arched, and staring down at nathan. this is where the switch begins.

is always something of a friendly fight between them, who can get who to cum the fastest. but its never a real competition, they always tend to cum together or right after the other. and when pickles feels his dick bob and twitch as he bounces against nathan, he assumes tonight will be one of the nights where the competition becomes a shared finish. nathans head is thrown back against the seat, his eyes half lidded and trained on where his dick disappears into pickles. pickles eyes were fluttering, then closed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in a crooked smirk. a growl rumbled deep in nathan and his hands reached up to pickles hips. pickles eyes opened and he understood. he placed one arm above his head against the roof of the car to prevent his head from hitting it. he stopped bouncing just as nathan started to thrust. its his verse now. he pulls and pushes, fucks up into pickles like he weighs nothing but means everything, and all pickles can do is take it. only he could take it. their moans get louder, thrusts sloppier, and pickles stutters out a warning. "nate'n, nate'n man, 'm close." and nathan only responds with a grunt and impossibly harder thrusts. pickles feels the air punch out of him with every thrust, and nathans panting and huffing and growling like a beast. its somethin about this forst, the night, this car, and its always something about pickles. it doesnt take long before pickles is cumming onto nathans shirt, staining it with wet spots and translucent white splotches. he clenches around nathan, the walls of him fluttering and threatening to swallow nathan whole. just like usual, nathans verse ends way too soon after pickles cums, and hes spilling deep inside of him like he was born to do this.

panting, sweaty, the car is hot. the windows have fogged and all the pair can do is giggle to themselves. pickles doesnt bother to pull nathan out of him as he leans forward and places a small kiss on nathans lips. "fuck, nate. you were rougher den usual. somethin on yer nerves?" pickles kows well that everythings been rough at home with the guys. nathan just grunts. hes never been one to talk after sex, though sometimes if the fuck inspired him he'll whip his notebook out and scribble down some lyrics for a song. it always makes pickles laugh. this time, nathan just lets his eyes close and hands knead pickles thighs. its kind, like hes relaxing for the first time in forever. which really, thats the truth. "nate, ya gonna let me go?" and nathan grunted and pickles understood. he always understood. they always understood eachother. pickles just sat on nathans lap, still full, but letting himself cool off. nathan let out a sigh and opened his eyes, looking down at pickles. "we should probably... head back." he grimaced as he said that, looking out the passenger side window. pickles nodded and slowly rose, a spill following after nathans limp cock. he pulled his jeans and underwear up, fixing himself up like usual. nathan lay still for a moment before fixing his own jeans and pulling the lever to put the seat back in place. "lets home the apartment isnt a wreck when we get back." pickles comments while he lazily throws his jacket on, handing nathan his. they clean the car up, the usual routine, the collective least favorite part. as nathan revvs the engine and begins to drive, pickles looks over at his cum splattered shirt. he digs through the glove box for some napkins and reaches over, doing what he can. nathan glances between him and the road. "what're you doing." and pickles smiles up at him. "cleanin ya up. you make such a mess, big guy." he teased and he could tell nathan felt a little something for the gesture. it was evident in the flex of his jaw as his teeth grinded. pickles pulled away and tucked the tissues into his back pocket to throw away later.

the ride home was silent then, both guys drained and dreading what hell they were gonna come back to. as they pulled up, there was surprisingly no screaming or yelling loud enough to hear from the apartment. the pair shared a questioning glance before climbing out of the car and up to the door. pickles opened it and magnus was asleep on the couch. god, he snores like geriatric. "christ, he needs a cpap." pickles whispered as they entered the apartment and quietly close the door. they try to be quiet as they walk through the living room and down to the hall to go to their shared bedroom. nathan sighs and pickles groans at the sight of murderface curled up in nathans bed. they share a look and nathan speaks up. "ill take murderfaces bed." pickles chuckles and elbows him gently. "im surprised yer arent just gonna rip him out of yer bed." nathan shrugs. "i dont feel like listening to him bitch. you have fun with his sleep talking." nathan smiles slightly as he says the last bit, which earns a whispered "dammit." from pickles. the two separate and clamber into their beds for the night. theres a tension gone from their bodies tonight, not for long probably. tomorrow will surely be more bitching and whining. but thats nothing to think of right now. despite the random muttering and snores from murderface across the small room, pickles falls asleep damn near as soon as he hit the mattress. nathan stayed up, staring up at the ceiling. he lets his eyes close after some time, but his head is still swimming with ideas of lyrics and metaphors and the noises he tore from pickles not even an hour before. once sleep takes him, its peaceful. a dream of being bigger than he is, of the band being bigger than it is, and he feels calm.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Hii! sort of specific but could i request a norman bates (1960) x reader headcannons where the reader has ocd and autism and can tend to be a bit of a hermit and a hoarder sometimes. its ok if not, ahve a good day!!

of course! i hope you like it :3

heads up, i havent dealt with ocd personally, so im going to try to use my knowledge and research as best as i can. if anything is wrong or needs corrected, dont be afraid to let me know :)

note: i started this eons ago, only now finished it. its kind of incoherent because of that so my apologies.

Norman Bates x Autistic & OCD reader

if we are going to be true to the times, austism and ocd wouldve landed you in a ward.

its not well researched or cared for, so information on either is very scarce and definitely incorrect.

Norman just doesnt get it

he thinks youre strange (hypocrite.)

the way you hoard things in a way that only makes sense to you. the way you tend to freak out or shut off when theres a change in your daily routine that to Norman, isnt a big deal.

he cares for you though, and tries to be as big of a help as he can

dont like this thing being there? he'll move it

cant handle noises today? he'll talk low and soft

but cmon, lets face it

his taxidermy room, his compulsion to clean (and kill)

hes got his own stuff goin on too

so as much as he doesnt get it, he does

normans a good man, and by god he will try to be an even better man to you

if you dont like the texture of the blankets or the firmness of the mattress, expect to see them changed the next day

he will be adamant that you work the front desk with him, but only when he is also there

he becomes a sort of mother (not THE mother though, fret not)

he will pamper you to the best of his ability

he is super critical of himself if he does anything that annoys you or makes you uncomfortable

if you tell him about your compulsions or whatever intrusive thoughts you may deal with, he will share the sentiment

true, its not the same thing for him, but the symptoms are pretty damn similar

he understands the intrusive thoughts the most

if youre the type to hit yourself when youre upset or angry or overwhelmed, he will try his best to prevent it

he will hold you from behind, locking your arms from the elbows so you cant reach your head or chest

any bruises it causes will be tended to cautiously

he loves you, and having things to worry about with you gives him less space to worry about himself and his past

and he needs that

you become a routine, even if theres no actual linear routine

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Oh my gosh I just read your recent one shot about Asa reacting to the nickname. It was so frickin good!! Could you please write more about him punishing the reader? (Sorry I'm a freak lol) Maybe about how he'd break them in during the early days of their captivity?

u r literally the sweetest ever THANK YOU!!

i hope i match your freak on this one lolsies

NOTE: i just finished writing and wow it got a lot longer than i expected. oops. also a lot darker and more confusing than i started with. oh well ^-^

TW: torture, graphic descriptions of violence on the reader, asa is actually fucking insane guys please stop making him seem normal, sexual undertones turn into sexual torture, abuse, graphic description of gore

if you get freaked out by needles, bugs, gore done to reader, then please take care of yourself and dont read this :] ily guys

you were so unfathomably fucked. the cold metal seemed like it would never warm under your skin, your skin bare and freezing over. this basement is cold and the looming dark walls were a reminder of just how stuck you were. your wrists were tied above your head, spread to reach each corner, as well as your feet. you were pinned, a dead bug ready for framing. there was this buzz, this buzz that would sometimes feel like it got louder. youd focus on it, there was nothing else to focus on. it hurt your head, or maybe that was whatever brain injury your captor had surely given you. you stomach felt hollow, empty. asa had given you a sandwich 2 days ago. after a week of no food at all. you only get to drink water, and sometimes its dirty if youve pissed asa off. this time, you did. you didnt listen, bit like a bad dog when asa tried to pet you. you still have training to go through, and asa loves to train you. a cold sweat covered your skin and it seemingly always did. you were always scared here, on edge, mortified. even your own breath made you jump.

but this time, you didnt jump for nothing. boots echoed off of concrete stairs, an echo you have filed away in your brain as his. if one day you get out of here, you'll never be able to hear anyone walk again without your breath hitching. the steps got closer. one thing about being here is that your hearing has sharpened. you have the ears of a rabbit now, and its funny how much youve become just another prey animal. the boots stop and to your right, asa stands. his hand reaches out, the latex warm from his body heat. they always look colder than they are, his gloves. but even with that warmth, it sends a near painful shiver through every of your aching bones. this is how it begins. asa plays with his food slowly. first, the anticipation, then it gets worse and snowballs. it becomes silent staring to touching to needles to knives. its a system, and he doesnt often free himself from it too much. he does different things, yes, but they all follow the same pattern when in terms of intensity. you want to bite, rip his jugular out, watch his blood spray out like a waterpark all over the floor. the same floor he made victims bleed out onto in quite a similar manner, if not less animalistic and more scientific. you want to bite so badly, but thats how you got here in the first place. muzzled, tied to a table, and naked save for the bodysuit of your sweat that covers every centimeter of your form.

its slow, the anticipation agonizing and brutal, the touches just enough to jolt, and you miss the slowness once you hear the metal tap of a tool being pulled from a metal tray. he plays doctor, hes a surgeon sometimes. other times hes a vet putting down a feral cat that has scratched too much and refuses not to hiss. sometimes, hes a blacksmith. beating down on the metal to form it into something he could use. and sometimes, hes just asa. which is the scariest option to face. you have yet to meet the other things you cant list. youre a young pup here, fresher than the others, a shinier toy than the rest. and every day you wonder if you'll meet something new. right now, its the vet. theres a needle in his hand and nearly as soon as he lifts it just enough for you to see the liquid hes going to inject you with, he sticks it right in the pit of your elbow. with precision, that vein is punctured and violated. it makes you jolt, makes you body pull and arch awkwardly from the table like you have any chance of escape. you dont, and you know that. especially when the effects start to settle in and you feel that familiar wooziness. it feels like being drunk and hungover and high and sleepy and pumped with adrenaline all at once. its a hazy clarity, an understanding that your body is now weaker than it already was, and all thats left is your mind to keep hold of the image of all of this.

after a few moments, once asa is content with the way you fall limp and your eyes start to gloss over like a blinding cat, he begins. as hazy and helpless and paralyzed as you feel, you also feel everything in such sharp clarity that its agonizing. if hell exists, youve died and stumbled into it. here and now, youre dead and dying and alive and never have lived at all. theres another metal clank or two, and suddenly youre aware of the cold blade finding the perfect point to start. asa always does this, teases. he touches the blade to skin enough to feel but not enough to cut. and once he finds the spot he likes most, theres a dull pain that turns quickly into a sharp throbbing heat. it sends your brain into panic, the feeling made even worse by the fact that you are entirely incapable of moving. you just have to take it, be trained. you can be a good dog, probably. he slices in long calculated lines. its not deep enough to reach that yellow fatty layer. not yet, at least. it repeats. the light touching, then the dull into sharp, then the agony in being able to do nothing. tears are hot down your cheeks, and you blink them away as they burn your eyes. the muzzle on your face rubs horribly, and now the rubbing is made worse by the wetness your tears are supplying. everything asa does is calculated so perfectly to bring suffering to his victim. theres a few more cuts, and then the metal clank. you take a deep shakey breath as he chooses what to do next. it doesnt take long, and theres a new sensation. maybe this is a new thing, the vet being switched into a curious kid. he pokes a finge into one cut that is particularly deep down your sternum. it aches and thrums and sizzles and itches and burns and feels so cold all at the same time as he pushes in further and further. you feel so aware of your body from the outside, but when something is pushing inside its so hard to tell just how far its gone. you imagine his fingers ripping through dermis that he didnt cut with the scalpel. you imagine its past that now, weaving through the hypodermis until your split down the middle and wide open. you could see him cutting you like a cadaver, then folding your edges and pinning them to a table. youre a dissected frog now. and your organs are on display to take photos of for a whole class of highschoolers to see and learn about.

thats in your head. his fingers have already left your violated wound. though, the feeling of them sticks like a splinter you cant pull out. metal clank. a typical tool, but its out of order. its a large needle, a thick gauge. theres a hole in the center and the metal looks hefty. theres not much thought you can put into it before its shoved into the skin surrounding your larger cut. he pokes and emerges, multiple times. and suddenly your torso looks like the side of a ship panel without its screws in, just large open holes. that doesnt take long either, and in your dazed state you watch as the aglet of a regular shoe string is pushed then pulled through the hole. hes lacing you up like a pair of converse. this is new. you can even pinpoint what version of him this could be. as he does so, the fabric string making the holes sting as it passes through, theres that familiar low rumble noise. purring, his purring. its low, and sounds far from what a cats purr is like, though it has the same meaning. pleasure. you wonder for a second how that vibration in his throat would feel against your teeth. bite like a dog. you could, you wish you could. the lacing goes on for too long, too slow, and the purring becomes just as loud as the buzzing of the fluorescents. you focus in on it just the same. it would be soothing if it werent from him. cat fur crosses your mind. soft, warm, the purring. everything aches. in the real life, everything fucking sucks.

his purring turns into creaking as he loosens a joint on your table and adjusts it. now youre pinned but upright in a standing position. your head falls forward and asa catches it, his purr so close to your ear. hes really close, you hear his labored breath and feel his heat. he props one of his feet up onto the footboard of the table. now hes basically straddling your one bare leg. your brain short circuits, deciding like a broken pressure gauge between if this feels nice or if youre digusted. you bleed down yourself, its hot to start then painfully cold when the air swallows all the heat. he nuzzles his body against you. hes a cat. the fur, his sweater fabric, the purring, his warmth. its all confusing, this haze, the blood, the warmth. his tongue slowly unrolls from his mouth, pokes past his mask. he licks a disgusting hot stripe up your cheek. maybe hes a dog too. hes all too much like a dog when the leg he straddles becomes his teddy bear and he starts to hump. slow rolls of his hips against you. this has never happened before, this is new. you wonder how many people hes gotten sexual with. its clear he gets hard from it, the torture. youve notices the bulge in his jeans many times while on this same table. that bulge is now rubbing on raw skin. it hurts, like rugburn. an for a second you think about being a kid and playing freely. thats quickly washed from your brain when a sharp pain shoots from your nipple. hes biting. bad dog. and for a second you think you two are similar in that aspect. bad biting dogs. if only he were tied up and muzzled in your place and you could torture him. he bites hard enough to mske your whole body feel it, and when you look down theres blood coming from your chest. he spits, and you realize he bit a chunk from your nipple. its disgusting and you want to die. maybe he'll kill you tonight, shove those canines through the teeth on your neck and rip your jugular out. its funny how things go, and suddenly your bite turns into a quivering lip and trembling breaths. god knows how long this will go on for tonight. if god did, surely even he would stop it. this isnt gods plan, nor satans, nor his. hes an animal now. pure instincts. and the rest of the night only spells deeper terror for you.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Hi, saw you were looking for request I was thinking of asa Emory with an s/o just wanted to or out of nowhere called him ace (like a cute little nickname ) how do you think he would react ? I’m thinking he might shut it down or be like BITCH WHO?!

-❤️‍🔥

oh this is scrumptious.

[send requests guys !!]

written on my phone + not proofread lolsies

TW: kidnapping, reader experiencing stockholm syndrome, mentions of torture, some physical violence towards reader, implied necrophilia / dismemberment of corpses, abuse obviously

lets face it, youre his pet. you have been for quite some time too. first you were a specimen, a pretty beetle that asa liked to poke and prod and play with. overtime, your obedience and strength intrigued him. you quickly became his favorite. as asa's favorite, you were treated more like a pet, treated softer like a tarantula rather than a lesser weevil. this led to you being given a better home. a room higher in his hotel away from the others. your room was still barred, secured, and you were chained to it, but you had room to walk and things to do. he'd occasionally bring you books or puzzles or, if you were really good, coloring pages. one day, as you sat beside your bed, the many locks and chains on your door began to jingle and shift, a sign that your captor was entering. captor, lover, owner, whatever you chose to call him based on his niceness that day. as the door began to open, you scurry on your knees to the center of the room, beside the bed and not too close to the door, but in his line of sight. he walks in and closes the door behind him, the usual routine. once in front of you, he crouches, reaching a gloved hand out to gently pat your head. he never spoke, but sometimes he permitted you to. and right now, he gave you the nod you learned was that permission. you start slow, not speaking to fast or loud or too much, and when he listens as you speak, doing whatever it is hes doing around your room, you keep going. at some point in your soft and brainless barking, you called him ace. he stiffened, and you immediately felt your lungs punch themselves in. air left you and you stayed on your knees where you were, so still you could pass as a ststue. you only call him sir and master, youre aware of that. so when you called asa something new, something so close to his name, and something so out of line with what youve established, he had to take a moment to choose how to respond.

asa turned, slow and calculated. it send a painful shiver down your spine. you felt as small as you had nearly a year ago when he had caught you. or a year and a half... or.... god, you dont know how long. he stepped slowly towards you, those familiar boots making those familiar thuds on the carpeted hotel floor. you sat, trembling, breath coming in shallow heaves as you tried to control yourself. he crouched and you stared at the floor. he didnt quite like that. the warmth of his hand would've felt like bliss had it not been covered in latex and holding your chin so tightly. he forced you to look up at him, and a low purr started in his throat. its never made sense, the purring. hes human, you think anyways, and he never purrs when youd expect it. the purring is white noise as his grip on your chin tightens. it aches your jaw, starts a dull headache almost immediately. after a few excruciating moments of anticipation for more, he throws your head to the floor and stands. without any more discussion or suffering, asa walks past you without so much as a glance. the door sounds, and yoh recognize the sound of the open and shut then the multiple locks being put back into place.

the room is silent now, as hes left to go play with another pet, and you feel your body go limp on the carpet floor. the mixture of exhaustion from the fear and the trembling from anticipation leaves your muscles throbbing with an ache youve become all too familiar with. once youve pushed down your emotions enough, once youve decided to be a good dog again, you lay at the foot of the bed on the floor and wait. and wait. and wait. you dont know what time it is, whether its day or night, how long its been. as you lay, stomach growling with hunger and body shaking with the sake anxiety youve become accustomed to feeling every moment of every day, you think back to your slip up. its walking on glass with asa, and you never know what you can and cant do or how he'll react. this time, the nickname was the issue, that was obvious. the less obvious thing was the lack of punishment. no needles or knives or chemicals or roaches or staples or rope. he just left. maybe he was building something, something that will make needles and knives look like lollipops and crayons.

as you ponder this possibility, an indefinite amount of time passes. one hour, then two, then three, then... you dont even know. you didnt know from the beginning to be fair, you were just guessing and hoping. as that time passes, you start to hear the click of the locks when they arent there. you start to hear the thud of his boots and hope that when you lift your head from the dirty carpet, your eyes will be met with the leather of them. but that doesnt happen, and it pains you that it doesnt. it takes a long time, a long time of missing asa and curling in on yourself before you realize what this is. this is the punishment. the leaving you alone. the isolation. the hope for something thats not coming. the wishing for asa to appear. this is what his punishment is. and it makes you start to miss the needles and the knives and the ropes and the roaches, because at least he was there. and at least you knew when and what would happen. you would hurt, you would suffer and you knew that. but here, in this cold room, in this silence, you had no clue what would happen to you. would he come back? would he wait a little longer? was he going to let you die here?

luckily for you, he only left you in there for 3 days longer alone. asa was calculated and controlled, but he missed the way his favorite pet behaved at times. so as much as he would have loved to let you rot in there, use your corpse for other various methods, he knew you needed to live for this all to continue. so once the time had passed and he had fed you and you begged him to stay, it was the usual routine until you fucked up again.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

please does anyone have any requests or prompts or characters they want written for??

literally list any character doesnt have to be a slasher or even from horror ill do whatever ones i know

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Slashers as hand holding gifs

title ^-^

characters included: brahms heelshire, billy lenz, michael myers, billy loomis, stu macher, asa emory, jesse cromeans, thomas hewitt, bubba sawyer

Brahms Heelshire

He needs to feel the entirety of your hand in his or he freaks the fuck out. hes needy, desperate for your warmth, and holds hands like a child. a child with huge fuckin hands.

Billy Lenz

he holds your hand so tight it hurts. you have to remind him to ease up. he shakes when you hold hands, starts clawing at your knuckles, so hes great at holding hands if youre into that. his hands are SWEATY as all hell and uncomfortably clammy.

Michael Myers

he doesnt hold hands. this is the most youll get from him on a good day. hes a cold lover, silent and untouching, but he also would never do these small touches with anyone else. youre lucky.

Billy Loomis

simple, sweet, and it makes him feel possessive over you. his hands are warm, small callouses littering the pads of his fingers. sometimes he'll hold your hands in a position thatll let him stroke your knuckles with his thumb. if your hands are smaller than his, he LOVES that. it strokes his enormous ego.

Stu Macher

simple, sweet, but christ are his hands sweaty. he also fidgets a lot. brushing his thumb over what knuckles of yours it can reach, flexing and unflexing his hands over and over, squeezing your hand lightly every now and then.

Asa Emory

its possessive, cold, and you cant expect much more. youre a pet to him, you just so happen to be his favorite. these moments where he touches you, holds your hand, theyre not to show affection. theyre to remind you what dynamic you two have, and how easily you have become his. to him, its a show of power and dominance, but to you, youre likely so stockholmed that its a sign that you really are his favorite specimen.

Jesse Cromeans

he will not initiate hand holding. thats up to you. but be careful, because if you do it when hes in an off mood, he'll push you away like you disgust and annoy him. when he does let you hold his hand, he will occasionally turn his palm up and mirror your affection. it feels formal, but you know that thats just how jesse is.

Thomas Hewitt

he's gentle, as if his hands could break yours (they. in fact, easily could.) he likes to hold hands during breakfast, getting some amount of serotonin and comfort in before another hard days work of tending to the farm and sometimes butchering some new fresh 'meat'. youre his domesticity, i hope you understand how important that has become for him.

Bubba Sawyer

he's jittery, inexperienced, and often times loves to scoop your hands up into his to pet and admire them. he shakes a lot and gets super excited at even the concept of holding hands, so expect a lot of movement. holding his hand with both of yours, and he'll melt.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

How i think slashers would hug, displayed in gifs.

this is just sillay cutie stuff while i write a shit ton of other things. these are all just what id imagine theyd hug like.

characters included: brahms heelshire, jesse cromeans, asa emory, rz michael myers, billy lenz, stu macher, billy loomis, thomas hewitt, norman bates

Brahms Heelshire

real desperate and touchy. hed swallow you whole if he could, sometimes he tries. he digs his hands into your clothes, breathes you in deep. he pants everytime you touch him like an overexcited dog. he will probably need help afterwards, so i hope you dont have anything to do in the next hour or two.

Jesse Cromeans

hugs you from behind in a possessive, "i own you" type of way. youre his, and having you in a vulnerable position like that, back to chest, lets him remind you both of that. occasionally he'll hug you from the front, but thats usually when you guys are going to have a night together to get kinky. when you arent hugging, he loves to hold your waist. especially around people. he loves showing everyone his little trophy pet.

Asa Emory

hes not much for physical touch, so when he hugs you its kind of awkard and aggressive. he tries to make it sweet if he thinks you really deserve it. he only does side or back hugs. when he does actually hug you, he holds your neck and shoulders in a near death grip, just reminding you who you belong to.

RZ Michael Myers

hes so fucked up the most youll get is he'll occasionally rest his head on yours or your shoulder. his arms are stiff at his sides but its pleasant regardless. really rare, so cherish it. maybe he'll warm up as time goes on, maybe not. if you guys ever actually hug, it'll remind him of his mom and you wont see him for a week or two because he'll self isolate.

Billy Lenz

hes the girl in the gif. he will jump you. i hope youre always prepared, because he does it randomly and he always gets a running start. he gets all shakey, starts rambling, nearly claws at you, digs his boney body into yours. he'll breathe deep but erratic, smelling every aspect of you as he babbles on. hes like a dog everytime you see him, wagging his tail and hopping up to lick you.

Stu Macher

always really playful. if he can pick you up, he will all the time. he also loves to hold you from behind while you sit on his lap. you probably end up making out for the 50th time that day.

Billy Loomis

if he actually loves you, the hugs are chest to chest and sweet. on a surface level, he uses back hugs with everyone else he has been with. but thats not because he loves them, its more of a 'im bigger and stronger than you' type of thing. it takes him a long time before the actually sweet and real hugs become frequent between you two. he still gives you back hugs, though. hes possessive.

Thomas Hewitt

he will bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. youre a reminder of the domesticity he craves. your scent is his home, you arms are his warmth, your breath is his music, you are everything hes needed his entire life.

Norman Bates

holds you so lightly you can hardly even tell hes there. hes so scared of breaking you, like youre a fragile bug he doesnt want to squash. if you guys can even get this far into a relationship (with mother and all), then hugs will be relatively frequent. his hands always shake, he always stutters, and sometimes you have to remind him that he can actually hug you instead of just gently hold you. when you arent hugging, he holds his hand on the small of your back as much as he can. hes afraid you'll slip through his fingers if he lets go for just a second, and he cant let go of you. youre the only good thing hes had in his life.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Trashy tattoos turn on rich old men.

an adam stanheight x lawrence gordon fic

smut 18+ so minors dni

post-trap, canon disabled lawrence, adam lived!!, gay sex, anal, top lawrence, bottom adam, riding, yada yada

context: adam and lawrence have lived together for a month or two, and adam has managed to hide his embarrassing little secret pretty well, until now.

probably typos and stuff i dont have beta readers or anything

_____________☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆_____________

"so what genre are we feeling?" adam spoke from his place kneeled on the floor, digging through drawers of movies in the tv stand. lawrence wobbled into the room, his cane thudding against the floor as he did so. he let out a breathy grunt as he fell onto the couch and settled into the cushions. "whatever youd like, love." adam smiled to himself at the nickname. he opened the drawer he had organized that had all of his horror films. when he reached for it, his shirt lifted a little, and a glimpse of some dark lines caught lawrences eyes. he squinted a little, trying to make out what it was. was it his underwear? loose strings? it took a moment before adam shifted a little more, his shirt tugging up and his waistband pulling down just a little. lawrence felt a heat immediately creep up his neck. "adam?" his voice was low, infatuated with this new discovery. adam turned and saw lawrences eyes locked onto his back. he furrowed his brows and started to swat at the back of his shirt. "what? is a spider on me? cmon, larry, youre spooking me." lawrence chuckled. "no, there isnt a spider on you. since when did you have a tattoo?" adams face dusts pink at that. he forgets he even has it. he tugs his shirt down and continues looking for the movie he wants. "its nothing. i got it in scotts garage when we were drunk and in highschool." lawrence licks his lips, his tongue dragging across them in an almost predatory manner. adam finds the movie he wants and puts it into the player, grabbing the remote from the coffee table and walking over to the couch. hes about to sit, but lawrence grabs his arm. "what?" adam says, in a sort of amused huff. lawrence says nothing, pats his lap expectantly. after a moment of hesitation, adam huffs and slowly sits onto lawrences lap, careful not to agitate his leg.

lawrences hands find their place on adams hips, gently pushing his shirt up and tugging his waistband down enough to see the full tattoo. its jagged in some places, clearly done by someone who knows how to use a tattoo gun, just not well. its a basic cyber sigil, a heart in the center with spiked tendrils extending out to his hip bones. "its really nothing, just another shitty decision i made as a teen." adam tries to push down the embarrassment. lawrence had to see it at one point or another. he's done so good at hiding it so far. making sure that they only fuck in missionary, preferring to shower alone, facing lawrence when he changes around him. lawrence traces his hands softly along the inked skin, his breathing becoming a little heavier. "i wish you wouldve shown me sooner." lawrences voice is husky, like it always gets when hes turned on. and the scenario is insane to adam. an expensive, genius, put together oncologist touching up on a trashy, flannel wearing, ex slut with a tramp stamp. adam can feel how hard lawrence is getting, and its having the same affect on him. "i hate it. its so stupid. never get drunk around a guy with a tat gun." lawrence chuckles and sits up, reaching a hand around adams waist and grabbing onto his thigh. his other hand snakes around and trails up his chest. "fuck, lawrence. i didnt know you'd like it that much." his hands roam, and god adam loves his hands. doctors hands. up there in the ranks with guitarists, pianists, and potters hands. adam lets the remote in his hand fall onto the floor and his head lean back. "adam, take your pants off." lawrence doesnt have to repeat himself, because in a flash adam is up and tugging his baggy thrifted jeans down like theyre on fire. he sits back down and lawrence starts to tug off his shirt. the complex this forms between them gets adam fully hard in his dark blue boxers. him, nearly naked, and sittin in lawrences fully clothed lap. this is how they always seem to be. adams the trashy one, lawrence is the rich old man. lawrence pats adams hip gently. "do me a favor, love, and go grab the lube. ok?" adam nods and stands, making his way awkwardly to their shared bedroom and digging through the side table drawer frantically. he grabs the lube and walks back to the living room, eyes wide at the sight of lawrence palming himself through his old man pajama pants. he makes those blue and white stripes look sexy, somehow.

adam tosses the lube to lawrence and the blond beckons him to sit back on his lap. before he sits down, lawrence tugs his boxers down way too smoothly. it makes lawrence jump a little, eliciting a chuckle from the older. he sits back onto his lap, knees on either side of lawrences plush thighs, and his back facing him. lawrence nearly moans at the sight of his tattoo again stretched across his skinny-fat waist and propped perfectly above his ass that lawrence has become so fond of. he massages the flesh with both hands for a little, leaning forward and pressing kisses against his shoulder blades and spine. it makes adam shiver, and they're both starting to get impatient. "lean forward." and adam does. he hears the familiar sound of lube being squirted and feels the familiar cold of the slick substance. it makes goosebumps rise onto his pale skin. "sorry, probably shouldve warmed it first." adam makes a gesture that says 'dont worry, just keep going' and lawrence lets out an amused huff. he massages the tight ring of muscle for a few moments before gently pushing in, his entrance giving way easily like aways. he shoves in until he hits his knuckle, and adam bites back a whine. he starts to push in and out, twisting slightly, easing his hole open. when hes more relaxed, lawrence adds a second finger, repeating the process until hes 3 fingers in and adam is shaking. "you think youre good to go now, adam?" and adam lets out a groan, his knuckles turning white as he grips the couch between lawrences legs. "larry, please, just get to it already before i freak out." this earns a chuckle from lawrence.

adam shivers a the sound of lawrence shuffling, pulling his cock through the hole in his boxers and pajamas. "ok, ease back gently." adam listens, slowly leaning back and letting lawrence line himself up. he takes a breath and pushing down, the head of lawrences cock pushing in jarringly easy. they let out a synchronized groan, and its porn worthy. as adam sinks onto lawrence, he thinks. they could totally make a pretty penny off of their sex tapes. adams good with cameras, and lawrence is good with adam. itd be tagged with all the shit that thrives on the gay sites. older man, younger man, whore, anal, rough. he shakes away the thought and starts to move when hes sure hes adjusted. its a little dull ache at first, but as he continues it build into the usual bliss he knows. lawrences eyes are trained on the tramp stamp, watching adams ass bounce beneath it, holding onto his hips tight. his thumbs rub circles into the fucked up lines, and for a second he smiles. the ragged ink suits adam, in the most endearing way possible. his thoughts are quickly pushes aside as adam quickens his pace. hes already nearing his end, but he wants adam to cum first. lawrence shifts a little, leaning forward and taking hold of adams leaking cock, letting him fuck into his hand with every up thrust off of lawrences cock. the action makes adam whine like a bitch, like he always does. if lawrence closed his eyes, he could almost imagine adam was a woman from his noises alone.

"fuck, im close." adam forces out, the air struggling to stay in his lungs as he overworks his now sore thighs. lawrence hums in response and starts to move his hand, jerking adam off. he keeps adam in a nice rhythm with his hand on the youngers hip. hes gripping tighter as the coil in his stomach is pulling taut. "cmon, adam. remind me how much of a slut you are." lawrence silently of grimaces at the name, but it sends adam quickly over the edge. he spasms, his muscles rapidly clenching an unclenching. he spills into lawrences hand, some of the cum overshooting and landing onto the carpet. they'll worry about that later. lawrence grabs onto adams hips with both hands, the brunettes cum now smearing onto his own hips. lawrence fucks up into him, chasing his high, and spilling with a breathless groan inside of him. he thrusts lazily a few more times before humming, catching his breath and letting his forehead fall forward onto adams back. his fingers idly trace the tattoo again, admiring the thing that turned him on so much in the first place. they pant together for some time, coming down from their highs and dizzy heads.

adam breaks the silence. "man, i need a shower." lawrence just laughs against his back. a genuine laugh, and it makes adam smile. "do i get to shower with you?" lawrence asks. adam looks over his shoulder at the blonde and playfully rolls his eyes. "maybe. if you behave." lawrence scoffs. "i have to use a shower chair. how would i misbehave in the first place?" adam turns, situating in lawrences lap so hes facing him. "youve got wandering hands, doctor. and youre gonna be sitting at the perfect blowjob height." lawrence playfully smacks adams ass, making him jump. "cmon, we gotta clean up." adam nods in agreement and climbs off of lawrences lap. he helps lawrence up, and they clean up what mess they made in the living room before retreating to the bathroom. adam turns the water on and helps lawrence into the tub and onto his shower chair once his prosthetic is off and propped against the sink. lawrence sighs as the water lands on him, and the brunette makes his way to grab a change of clothes for each of them. once he returns, he climbs into the shower. as adam grabs some shampoo and starts to wash lawrences hair, lawrence comes to a realization. "is that seriously why you havent let me shower with you?" adam just laughs in response, nodding so subtly that youd miss it if you blinked. adam furrows his brows incredulously and chuckles. they continue to wash up and lawrences hands only wander to hold adams hips a couple of times. they got out, adam of course helping lawrence to dry off and replace his prosthetic with fresh powder and such. they make their way back to the living room and lay lazily across the couch, finally able to enjoy the movie adam chose without interruption. a few moments into watching the movie in silence, adam speaks up. "you should get a matching tramp stamp." and that earns a gut laugh from lawrence.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

I'll be right back.

stu macher x gn reader

mini fic, established relationship

warnings: typical slasher stuff, murderous bf, he threatens u, yada yada, slight nsfw, hes in costume, swearing

"I'll be right back." and everyone loses their minds. everyone loves stu. hes a dickhead, annoying, but hes funny and hot. and everyone is very drunk. you feel just a little out of place at this party, it doesnt feel quite right, and these people arent really your people. but stu wanted you to come, and youre his partner so of course you said yes. you get up, aiming to follow stu, but then someone interrupts yelling about the principals body or something at the schoolyard. if thats true, thats fucked up. and so many drunk teens are scrambling into cars, which they shouldnt be driving right now, to go see their dickhead principal on display. you finally make your way to the garage where you assume stu is, the house eerily empty and quiet now. the only noise is randy yelling at the tv and the sound of your footsteps. and.. and someone elses footsteps.

you stop, not expecting much, but youre on edge with knews of this halloween costume loser on the loose. you turn, and just as you catch a glimpse of ghastly white and a shitty black cloak, youre lunged at and your mouth is covered. a thick layer of cold sweat immediately violates your skin, making your shirt stick uncomfortably and your face get red and hot. here you are, face to face with the ghost face killer. and hes pressed up against you completely, body to body, hand to mouth, and knife to throat. hes not pushing at all, its just a threat right now, and he silently nods towards the stairs behind you. god, what are you supposed to do? you shuffle to the side, the direction of the bottom of the stairs, and he moves right with you, like a shadow that you can face and feel. you attempt a yell for help, but his grip on your mouth tightens and the knife is put further up your neck, right below your chin, and with a pressure not heavy enough to cut but enough that you get the message.

you shuffle slowly to the bottom of the stairs, and you guys gently make your way up. damn, its hard going up stairs like this backwards. but that knife needs to stay in your vision, and you need to stay in his. once up, you stand, shaking, taking in what you are sure are your final moments. he nods his head again, this time towards a door. its his bedroom. you would know that, youve been here a billion times, you guys have... bonded... in there a billion times. you walk slowly, cautiously to the door and gently turn the knob, opening your tomb and stepping in it. he closes it behind him, knife still pointing at you. with a swift movement he grabs you, turns you around, and now your back is pressed heavy against his chest. that was stu's favorite way to hold you. wild coincidence.

"what do you think of me now, hot stuff?" oh my fucking god. youd recognize his voice anywhere even muffled like that. "s-stu?" and that chill of realization sends an aching shiver across all of your nerves and bones. "bingo, baby." he puts the knife under your chin, just as threatening as earlier, but this time he doesnt cover your mouth with his free hand. no, that hand is busy. its dragging across your stomach, your chest, your waist, thighs, and squeezes your ass in the way he likes to. "a-are you going to kill me." your words are stupid and weak, a clear mirror to your feelings. "kill you? aw, nah baby. i mean- billy wants me to. make it easier, take out all the witnesses, everyone who could burden our little gig. but i like you too much, as long as you promise to keep those pretty lips zipped." you hesitate for a moment before nodding. he moves the knife from your neck and shuffles. he leans forward and kisses your sweat salty neck, his mask pulled up onto his head.

"youve been him this entire time?" you force out. "no, only half of the time. it was all billys plan, im just his right hand man." he lets out that stupid giggle youve grown so fond of, but this time it feels dark and sinister and unfamiliar in its essence. his hands continue roaming your body, every contour, every curve, every inch of body they could reach. "if you arent going to kill me, then- then what are you going to do with me?" he turns you around, youre face to face with his manic expression and big toothed smile. "we're gonna have some fun, baby." tonight you might die, but before that, you get to fuck your actually psychotic serial killer boyfriend first. what a mess.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

The way you hold your neck.

joe goldberg x reader

mini fic, 3 paragraphs

warnings: dark, stalking, slight nsfw, joe wants you BAD, random non canon stuff as my writing usually has

there will be typos and hardly any capitalization idc

its the way you hold your neck, rubbing the nape with your thumbs, exhausted and tired from work. surely, being a fast food employee isnt that hard, or maybe it is, and Joe just forgot how much it sucked. he wasnt there for long, only 3 months, but he hated it. He's sure you hate it to. the way you sit down onto your sofa, turning on the tv and finding a movie to watch. he needs to find a way to move closer, see what youre watching, its just another way to know you. he moves from his spot across the street and makes his way down, turning onto the street your apartment is on and walking up, spying at what youre watching. its a horror, hes trying hard to spot what type. a few moments pass, and he recognizes the scene. youre watching Halloween. of course, a classic, and youre a classic horror fan. your house is dimly lit almost all the time and you check over your shoulders like youre being hunted. maybe you are. do you know youre in somewhat of a horror yourself? if you consider this kind of thing as scary. its gotta be, joes staring through your window at nearly 10 pm, staring at you at nearly 10 pm. you would be in real danger if this were anyone but joe, you know that, right? he wouldnt hurt you, but other filthy, animalistic, sex addicted men would. youre safe with joe. maybe this isnt a horror, but a romance. shakespearean, you just dont know it yet.

shot out of his thoughts, joe notices you shift, turning to the window, and he ducks. god, you better not have seen him. this can't end so soon. you still have so much to show him, he still has so much to learn. in an awkward duck position, joe walks down the street until hes cleared of your sight. he moves back to the opposite street, nearly in the bushes of the parallel apartment. youre back to watching your movie, hes back to watching you. the way you tuck yourself under that throw blanket, it looks soft and cozy. it'd be cozier if joe were also under it with you. you wouldnt need the blanket if he were in there, he'd warm you up. you start to slump down, further into those plush cushions of your futon. he wonders what they feel like, are they even comfy? he'd make them comfy if you asked him to sit.

this continued for what felt like hours, but the movie wasnt even done. you were asleep, and joe was tired. it was nearly midnight now, but he couldnt leave. theres so much to look at. your position, the way you sleep, if you'll wake up and turn the tv off. youre his favorite channel, playing through your apartment window screen. he was like a toddler sitting right in front, burning his eyes from the screens staticy graphics. those red green dots you only see when youre super close. he was locked in on you. maybe tomorrow he could start planning your meeting, imagining it, dreaming it. it would lead to imagining so much more, and hed be wide awake taking care of himself. you do things to him. he cant think about that now. because right now, hes still just staring at your sleeping form through your windows. and he needs to sleep too. tomorrow night, he hopes youll do the same. its like a routine, like you already live together, like you already know youre his.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Something like dying.

Donnie Darko x Reader.

includes:

reader x character relationship, gender neutral reader, ooc

warnings: angst, mentions of death, mentions of mental illness, deep discussion of dark topics, explicit language

"Dont you dare touch me with that, dude." You backed up as Donnie threatened you with a slug hanging onto the tip of a small stick. He chased you, obviously holding back on getting you to make you a little more on edge. You hopped over the old dirty couch in the middle of the clearing and yelled at Donnie to knock his shit off. "Aw cmon y/n, its just a slug. these things are everywhere even when you dont know it." As he speaks his final word he tosses the stick at you and you tumble out of the way with a small scream. "Darko, im gonna beat your ass." Your eyes lock in on him, like hes a target and youre on the hunt, and you run around the corner of the couch to tackle him onto it. You fall over onto the couch in a mess of limbs and accidentally elbow him right in his ribcage. He lets out a pained grunt and you sit up, hands covering your face, and apologizing. "Its alright, im good." Despite his hand grabbing his rib in pain, he chuckles at your reaction and smiles. "Im sorry, I really didnt mean to actually beat your ass." You climb off of him in a sort of messy manner and reach a hand out to help him up. He takes your hand and instead of getting up, he throws you down onto the floor in front of the couch. You grunt and smack him lightly but lay your head back against the cushion. You guys sit like that for some time. Silent, only listening to the sound of distant neighborhood bustle and your own breaths mixing with the wind.

"Donnie." He looks down at you from his laying position, a brow slightly cocked. "Yeah? What?" You turn a little to face him, an arm now resting on the couch where your head was. "You've been off lately. More than usual. Have you been taking your meds?" A look of genuine concern washes over your features, and Donnie lets out a small half-chuckle half-scoff. "Donnie. Be serious." He looks at you and sighs, looking up the sky and squinting. "They arent doing anything." He mumbles it almost like a toddler. "So you arent taking them at all?" You roll your eyes in disbelief. "No im taking them. But. I dont- I dont know." He rubs his face with his hands and groans. "Nothings going away." He looks at you, a sort of desperate, tired look. "What is it like?" You speak without thinking. He stays silent for a second. "It feels... I dont know whats real. I sometimes think even youre fake and everyones just lying about knowing you so I dont freak out." He lets out a pathetic chuckle at that, but you dont. You stay silent as you watch him. "Its like... You know when you have a dream, and in that dream you wake up from another dream, but youre still dreaming? You never actually woke up?" You nod. "Thats how it feels to live. It feels something like i imagine death feels like. Pin flashes of every life youve lived coming at you at once. It feels like dying. I feel like im dying everyday." You listen intently, silently, painfully. "Something like dying." You murmur under your breath. "Youre not dying yet, Donnie. Not yet." You turn back around and let your head fall back onto the cushion, eyes closed and up to the sky. "I know im not. But its something close."

You sat in silence for some time before Donnie spoke up again. "Do you ever think of how your name would sound with mine?" You turn to him and open your eyes confused. "What do you mean?" He sits up on his elbows to face you, holding eye contact like he usually does. "Y/n Darko. Donnie y/l/n. Have you ever thought of that?" You furrow your brows and let out a breath. "Is this your way of proposing to me, Donnie?" He looks away with a smile and his cheeks glow a growing red. "Its just.. Its just fun to think about. Thats all." You smile and reach up to grab his hand. "Nobodies playing a joke on you Donnie. Im real. Always have been." Your expression turns much more serious and you watch Donnies turn to a sort of desperate but hidden aching struggle. "I know you are. Just doesn't feel like it sometimes." You sit up onto your knees and hold his hand up to your lips, gently kissing his knuckles. "How do i make it feel like im real all the time?" He looks into your eyes, a glimmer of something unrecognizable in them. "Kiss me." The words come out of him without a second thought, and your actions do the same. You lean up and plant a gentle kiss on his terribly chapped lips. He grabs your shoulder and wraps an arm around it, sitting up to get closer to you. You pull away and hold his face. "Im real, Donnie. I always will be, I always have been." He pushes his lips to yours again and grabs your hair, his hand cradling the back of your head. "Youre the closest thing ill get to peace." He whispered against your lips, then holds you tight, tight like youll really dissappear at any second. It feels something like dying, and youre the closest to heaven he'll ever get.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

I just ended up watching Black Christmas last night and Billy is currently living in my head rent free (just like the attic) so I gotta send a request

How would Billy feel if he tried to call a female victim and ended up with a deep-voiced (trans) guy on the other end? What if instead of just insulting Billy or hanging up, he actually played along and got kind of into it? 👀

oh this is everything i want out of an ask. god bless you. (sorry this was so late i couldnt find an ounce of motivation to drop by tumblr. but we are so back.)

sorry for typos idgaf

canon billy stuff, f slur used (im gay and trans so bite me), a lot of obscenities, degradation, phone sex, masturbation, reader has deep voice and top surgery BUT a tdick and no bottom surgery (srry if thats a yuck for you its my personal preference), yadayadayada

reader didnt just get kinda into it, fella deep dived into it.

the ringing of the phone blared through the house. of course, you walked to go answer it. with a lazy hand and even lazier posture, standing against a nearby wall, you answered. before you could even get a word out, a loud shrill shriek nearly blew your eardrum out from the other side. it was so loud that you had to hold the boxy phone from a distance, brows furrowed and confused.

"piggy cunt. i want your piggy cunt. im gonna lick it! lick it lick it! you know you want billys cock!"

gross. the mans voice on the other end screamed and shrieked and gagged and sputtered out obscenities like he were a teen boy discovering porn for the first time. you cautiously brought the phone closer to your ear, speaking into it. "hey man, wrong number. also, gross." the line went silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, but the line wasnt dead. "hello?"

and with a deep growl, the man responded. "faggot." woah, alright, this just got wilder. "excuse me?" you spoke into the phone, both shocked and mildly pissed. the voice giggled, the giggle growing into a loud screech and manic laughter. "faggot piggy wants billys cock! gag on billys cock with your deep voice." god, this guy was insufferable. yet... this was kind of... fun. you stood straighter, wrapping the phone wire around your finger, listening to the absurdity across the line. "oh, do i?" why the fuck are you playing along? this is weird! "oooh piggy wants to choke on billys fat cock like a faggot. billy will fuck piggys pretty lips with his fat juicy cock." his voice was low, nearly a growl, and there was a sort of desperation to it. his breath was picking up and faint slapping noises could be heard.

realization dawned on you, and dammit, so did a twitch in your tdick. you bit your lip and listened closer, as close as you could with his impossibly loud threats and fantasies. as he spoke, you grew embarrassingly harder, your boxers soaking through way too quickly. "what else does billy want to do with me?" you bit your lip as you unbuckled your belt, undid your pants, and slowly reached a hand down. you were sensitive as is, benefits of being on testosterone, and this sensitivity was only heightened by the sound of the freak on the phone jerkin his shit.

you let out a small gasp into the phone as you palmed yourself through your wet boxers and heard the line go silent again. fuck, he heard your noise. your cheeks flush with embarrassment and you hold your breath, pausing your hand in your pants and not moving an inch. the noises on the other side of the phone continued suddenly. the slapping, the heavy breathing, though this time it was louder and heavier. this time, he was moaning and spitting out his words like they were overwhelming to say.

"piggy slut cumming for billys voice? fucking slut. billys gonna take your cock and suck it and suck it and suck it until piggy cant breathe." your hand continued moving, slowly getting faster. your boxers were dripping wet and suddenly you became very conscious of them, needing them out of the way so you can fuck yourself right. you shoved your hand down your boxers and slickened your fingers and used it as a makeshift lube to stroke your cock faster. you moaned into the phone, your face red at your own noises, as well as the responses you were getting from billy. "faggot piggy, stroke your cock faster, faster, faster. billy thinks you sound stupid now. you want billys cock in your ass so bad, you slut." you moaned out a yes to his words, your orgasm drawing nearer as your stomach tensed and tied in heated knots. billys moans got louder, he got more frantic with his noises. animal noises, screams, yelps, girly moans, low growls, any noise you could imagine. the slapping of his own masturbation was almost as loud as his voice now. fuck, it was so hot. and fuck, you were so close.

"billy, fuck. im so close." you moaned desperately into the phone. "piggy slut gonna jizz already? stupid fucking slut. you moan like a bitch." hes one to talk. he continued his verbal assault and his voice began to crack and break, letting you know hes also close. as your orgasm edged you, you nearly yelled into the phone for billy to fuck you. insane words, even more insane context. you heard him spit into the phone his obscenities as he let out a long, loud moan. that was it, that is what you needed. you came undone, twitching against your hand and rutting violently into your palm. your legs shook and you threw your back against the wall for any sort of support. your hand tightened around the phone and you sat still after for a few moments to catch your breath and come down from your high.

after snapping back to reality, you realized the line had went dead. the embarrassment from the situation settled in as you released your soaked hand from your pants. you hung the phone back up and decided a shower was in order, probably a long talk with yourself too. as you got ready for your shower, stripping and looking at yourself in the mirror, you sighed.

god, you pray that stranger calls again.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

GRAHHH 🦅!!!! i saw u were doing slasher matchups and i have been waiting to see one for so long ILY!! /p

alright ! im a 4’9 cis girl with wolf cut golden brown hair, blue eyes and a septum piercing! im a mid-size body type and my fashion usually consists of horror movie tees and baggy jeans. occasionally ill wear a skirt!

my personality is very excited, outgoing, extroverted, ETC! ive been told im extremely bubbly and sweet, and i have a “sunshine” aspect to me!! not to toot my own horn or anything heheheh. i also have adhd and suspected autism! :3

im an ENFP personality type and i have been told i am an airhead. i love to bake, draw, sing, and play video games! (fallout is my fave!) i also do a lot of theatre!

EEEKK TYSM for this it’s so cute n your writings totes adorable!! sorry if this is too long i have a tendency to ramble urghhhh! BUTTT

i have a male preference! :3 ! HAVE A GOOD ONE!!! YOU R TOTALLY TUBULAR! 😎

I match you with...

Bubba Sawyer !

Your hyperactive energy would compliment Bubba so well. He needs someone fun to make his life not as harsh. He loves your bubbly personality and will constantly talk to you, so you better learn how to understand Bubba babbles soon. Loves your fashion and finds your piercing fascinating. Drayton was mad confused when Bubba begged for him to let you live, but after a long time of babbling and squealing Drayton got annoyed and let you stay. Nubbins and ChopTop would love you and often ask to hang out. Theyre so happy Bubba found someone like you, and Bubba is beyond grateful to have someone who loves him and his family like you do. He will be as connected to your hip as he can be, whether you are baking or drawing or doing chores. If you do your makeup or dye your hair, prepare for all brothers begging you to do it to them too.

I hope you like your pairing ! Have a great day / night !

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

hihihihi!!!!!!!! i’m 5’5 cis fem , i have brown hair with blonde bits at the front w layers (sorry if that’s not nescesary or even the next part i’m gonna say) i like 80s rock music - especially poison or guns n roses. i like baggy jeans or flared jeans, but like 2000s fashion w band shirts (queen,m��tley crüe ,nirvana etc..) idk if that was too much but ehhhhhh???!!??

I match you with...

Michael Myers ! (2007 Rob Zombie Version)

He listened to a ton of rock in the 80s as a kid. I mean, he wore band tees all the time. So being able to connect with someone over something so nostalgic and personal to him is a big deal. He recognizes bands like ACDC and Guns n' Roses as a piece of what he used to have. A piece of his childhood before everything fell apart at his feet. Being able to share that with someone he cares about feels reminiscent of his mom and its warm and cozy. Michael loves people who stand out, so naturally hes obsessed with your fashion. He always wanted to be that cool guy with piercings and baggy ripped jeans and band tees, instead he'll live vicariously through you.

I hope you like your pairing ! Have a great day / night !

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

helloo! I'd like to request a match up, if that's alright? I use she/her pronouns, but don't have a gender preference. Thank you in advance, and feel free to skip!

I'm a college student so I spend most of my time on either assignments, passion projects or scholarship tasks, in order to build my portfolio, which my hobbies and interests also contribute to (drawing, reading, media). This makes it so I'm perceived as either 'cultured' or 'independent' by outsiders, even though I'm really bubbly, talkative and dramatic when prompted. I like bear merch, as in plushies and patterns, and my personal style mixes grandpa sweaters in earthy tones with funky jeans and piercings. my current goal is to earn enough to someday be able to retire to the countryside.

I match you with...

Will Graham

Though he was honestly terrified to be with you at first, he loves you to heaven and hell. He was scared of hurting or scaring you but you proved to love him regardless. He loves your artistic nature and dedication to your education. Will is obsessed with how contrasting your appearance is to your personality. He loves how fun and bubbly you are to be around even though you look like the studious independent type. The moment he sees anything with a bear or bear print on it, hes buying it and bringing it home to you. You fit in perfectly at his home, your cozy unique aesthetic both contrasting and mixing perfectly with his home in the forest. I hope you like dogs, because you and Will have a ton of them. Will calls them your guys children, though you have to understand that theyre his first and yours by proxy of your relationship. He wants to live and grow old with you, 100% supporting your idea of retirement to the countryside and planning it out. He loves you more than life itself and perhaps he'd die without you by his side.

I hope you like your pairing ! Have a great day / night !

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

hi! can i get a slasher match-up? i would prefer to be matched with a male.

i'm 6'0 female and have amber eyes, long gold blond curly hair and hourglass figure. i'm positive and upbeat person, i try to see the bright side in most situations. i'm friendly, energetic, confident, sarcastic, responsible, maybe a bit chaotic, cheerful and bubbly. i'm very competitive and passionate person.

i have morbid, dark sense of humor

sometimes i randomly say a weird obscure fact in the middle of conversation. i can play on violin, cello, piano, guitar, saxophone, harp and drums, i'm currently learning how to play on trumpet. i'm kinda struggling with taking rest, doing nothing, because there is always something to do, something new to learn, etc. i'm afraid of stagnation. my style is something between whimsigothic and cryptidcore.

i love: tea, cooking, baking, horrors, animals, gardening, handicraft, music

i hope you have a fantastic day (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

I match you with...

Jason Voorhees !

Jason adores your positive energy. He doesnt have anything to keep him optimistic in his life, until you entered. He loves to play with your hair and put flowers in it, take walks around the forest with you, show you his favorite spots. Hes taken aback at first when you crack a dark joke so you'll have to explain to him that its just your humor. When you show him your musical talent, he loses his damn mind. His lovely girlfriend is so crazy talented!! So smart!! He's absolutely BAFFLED that someone as gorgeous and talented and smart and kind as you could ever love someone like him. Jason adores your style so much. You stand out in a crowd, but when you are sitting in the grass in the dark shade of the trees, you fit right in. He loves to watch you cook, enjoying the simple pleasure of helping you. He loves to garden with you and make the campsite look more homely. Everything you do, he loves to watch. Jason will get you anything and everything he can so you are never bored, so i hope you dont mind second hand items from unfortunate teens.

I hope you enjoy your pairing ! Have a great day / night !

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Requests, posts, fics, will all be slow. school started back up and i have a lot on my plate with the classes im in. thank you for your patience!